Buried Treasure
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Caryl Oneshot. ZA set at the prison. Laundry sometimes leads to discoveries. Rated for sexual situations/discussion.


**AN: So this one was a request that was made a while ago on Tumblr. I'm finally getting around to polishing it up since it's been in my "fic to finish" folder for a bit.**

 **It's just a silly little fluffy thing for nothing more than entertainment.**

 **I own nothing from the Walking Dead.**

 **I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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"Did you use a condom?"

Daryl wasn't expecting the question at all. He hadn't prepared for it because, in the middle of his day and particularly after a run, it wasn't the kind of question that he thought would pop up. Yet, just seconds after Carol had dragged him far enough away from Rick and Glenn and behind the wooden building where they were drying meat for the winter so that they wouldn't be heard, that was the question she hit him with.

He laughed to himself out of surprise, but her expression told him that she didn't think it was a laughing matter.

"What?" He asked.

"Did you use a condom?" Carol asked. The question was exactly what it had been before. Daryl hadn't missed it and he hadn't misunderstood it.

He nipped at his cuticle. He couldn't figure out why Carol was so pissed off, but the line between her eyebrows told him, quite clearly, that she'd been working herself up for at least a little bit. The line didn't get that deep in a matter of seconds.

"Well—yeah," Daryl said. "Hell—I mean...I thought you'd know that."

"You wouldn't lie to me?" Carol asked.

Daryl's stomach twisted at the tone of her voice.

"Why the fuck would I lie about some shit like that?" Daryl asked, hissing out his response to keep the volume of his voice in check. "You know I fuckin' used a condom. We talked about it. You saw me!"

"I saw you with it," Carol said. "But—it was dark. I didn't actually see you put it on."

"You can't tell if I'm wearin' one?" Daryl asked. It was a genuine question. He could tell when he was wearing one, but he couldn't exactly speak for things on her end of the whole deal.

"As far as I know," Carol said, "you've always worn one. Or you haven't. I thought you did...but..."

"I wore one," Daryl said quickly, trying to ease her concern before she could get too worked up over things. "Always wear one. Always gonna wear one unless..."

"Unless?" Carol asked, interrupting him. She was half-cocked, but she was calming down a little. The line between her eyebrows was fading slightly.

"I was just gonna say unless you told me not to," Daryl said. "Or, ya know, _asked_ me not to."

"But there was definitely a condom last night," Carol said.

Daryl laughed to himself. He nodded his head and scratched nervously at the back of his neck where the sweat dripping down from his hair tickled as it made its way down between his shoulder blades.

"This mornin' too," Daryl said.

"What did you do with it?" Carol asked.

Daryl furrowed his brow at her. He glanced around him to make sure that their private conversation was still private. The prison didn't offer much in the way of privacy, but Daryl thought they did a pretty good job of keeping their business just between them. Neither of them were exactly _ashamed_ of their relationship, but they had agreed to keep it just between them for a while. It was nice to have something, in this world, that you didn't have to share with everyone else.

As a result of their secrecy, they were both pretty stealthy lovers too. They were learning well how to stifle any noises that might give them away in the tight space they shared with all their companions.

For the moment, they still had privacy. Nobody had followed them to see what they might be talking about. Everyone seemed concerned about unloading the vehicle they'd taken on the run and none of them seemed to care what business Daryl and Carol had to discuss behind the smokehouse.

"What do you mean what'd I do with it?" Daryl asked. "What do you think I did with it, Carol? It was a used condom. I didn't keep it like no prize. Dropped it on the floor like I always do for you to toss out."

"Well it isn't there," Carol said.

"You picked it up this morning," Daryl offered.

Carol crossed her arms across her chest and shook her head at him slowly.

"No," she said. "I didn't. You had the run this morning and we were already late. Remember? I left the bed as soon as we finished. Got breakfast started. You slept in until I came to wake you. I didn't take anything out of the cell this morning."

"Then it's still there," Daryl said.

Carol shook her head again.

"Wrong again," she said. "I remembered it and I went in there to get it. It's gone."

Daryl got a strange sensation in his gut, but he did his best not to let on that he felt it.

"Where the hell would it go, Carol?" Daryl asked. "People around here's desperate to steal condoms—that much's for sure, but they ain't nobody desperate or...or _nasty_ enough to steal 'em used."

"That's what I thought too," Carol said, "but they're gone. You usually toss them right by the bed. They're not there."

Daryl tried to remember that morning. He remembered, quite well, that he had come to Carol's cell early, despite the fact he'd only left it a couple of hours before under cover of darkness, and woken Carol up early to try and steal a little time with her before he had to go on the run. He remembered that she'd been more than willing to tangle up with him again despite the fact that their love-making the night before had robbed them of some of the precious time they had to devote to sleeping. He remembered dropping the condom on the floor, just beside the bed, right where he'd left his boots and clothes—right where he always did, even though it had caused him to sacrifice a pair of jeans to the wash, early, a time or two because he hadn't been as good at tying knots as he imagined himself to be.

 _His clothes_.

"I dropped it in amongst my clothes," Daryl said.

"Are you wearing it?" Carol asked, snorting lightly as she tried to stop herself from laughing at the suggestion.

Daryl rolled his eyes at her.

"No," he said. "Left 'em. They was dirty. Don't'cha remember you brought me the clean ones when you come in to tell me to get up?"

"I know I brought you the clean clothes," Carol said. "But there weren't any other clothes in the cell. Not this afternoon, at least. Not when I went back."

"They were there," Daryl said. "I left 'em. Right by the bed for you to get. Right like I always do."

Carol's eyes went wide, suddenly, and she covered her mouth as it formed an "o." The sound of the letter escaped her lips at the same time.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"It's laundry day," Carol said.

"So?" Daryl asked.

"So I was busy making breakfast and packing the car while everyone was eating," Carol said. "I didn't have time to go around collecting the clothes that had to be washed. I asked for help."

Daryl swallowed. He had his choice of reactions at the moment. He chose to remain as calm as he possibly could.

"Help," he repeated. "You asked for help?"

Carol nodded.

"Gathering up the clothes," Carol said. "It takes longer than you think to go from cell to cell and gather everything up."

"Who'd you get to help you?" Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

"Maggie, Michonne, Beth," she ticked off. "I asked for help and everyone started helping." Her eyes widened slightly. "Whoever got your clothes..."

"Is in for a big damn surprise," Daryl said. He was torn between being amused and horrified. For a split second, his brain couldn't really figure out which way to go. On the one hand, their secret was absolutely out after the discovery was made. There would be no hiding what was going on, if it was actually even hidden at all. On the other, Daryl almost wished he could see the face of whoever it was who was tasked with sorting and washing his clothes. There was, after all, very little in the way of entertainment in the prison. "You gotta find it," Daryl said, maintaining as much urgency as he possibly could. "You gotta find it before the others do."

Carol's face had gone pink with the realization that, at any moment, someone might come across the proof of their nocturnal hobbies. He figured that she was doing even a poorer job than he was at hiding her amusement since the corners of her mouth refused to be held down. She nodded her head.

"I'll go," she said. "I can probably still find them before anyone gets them sorted."

Carol quickly started to walk away, back in the direction of the prison. Daryl let her put a couple of feet between them before he picked up his steps and followed after her. He stopped at the same time she did, right in the middle of the chosen path. Maggie's voice, calling out, stilled them both.

"Glenn! Where are you, Glenn? Come here—you're not going to believe what Michonne just found!"

Carol turned around, face red, and looked at Daryl. She wasn't trying to swallow back the smile that gave away her amusement. Daryl didn't feel much need of fighting his own, either.

"You think—there's any chance that Michonne found a rat or...something like buried treasure?" Carol asked.

Daryl snorted.

"She found buried treasure alright," he said. "Pure damn Dixon gold." He started walking again and closed the gap between himself and Carol. He dropped an arm around her back and pushed her forward. She tensed a little, unused to such a gesture as they emerged from some covered or private space. "Come on," Daryl urged, bringing her with him. "The jig is up. We might as well get on in there an' tell it our way. Michonne, Maggie, and Glenn know—that's as good as the whole damn prison."

Carol sunk into him and brought her arm around his waist in response. She didn't seem to mind at all that the secret was finally out. And Daryl, honestly, didn't mind it either.

It was time, after all, for everyone to know—even if they might have chosen, themselves, to make the announcement just a little differently.


End file.
